


Not Normal, Not Even Stable

by orphan_account



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Bass survey the wasteland of the former United States as they walk from South Carolina to Illinois.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Normal, Not Even Stable

**Author's Note:**

> Super special thanks to Dragomir for retroactive information and constructive criticism that made this a better story.

Miles was relieved when Bass agreed to walk from South Carolina to Chicago. Being the creative and resourceful Marines that they were, Miles and Bass liberated weapons and MREs from the armory and the stores. Bass, with surprising forethought, also got them extra socks, boots and backpacks. Miles got a mass of maps: road, topographical, anything paper he could get his hands on. Without consulting each other in advance, they had both thought to acquire a huge stock of matches.

Bass grinned as he held up a stack of condoms. Miles knocked them out of his hand, exasperated. They hadn’t tried anything fancy with each other since the blackout, and Miles wasn’t about to start now. And he had no idea what the casual sex scene was like out there, but if there were pretty girls ready to put out, Bass would sure as shit find them. But Bass got serious on him. “Trading,” he said. “These have a five year shelf life. The infirmary is handing them out like candy. As for booze….” They both knew about that; the armed guards on the alcohol inventory for the base exchanges and service clubs had been a point of bitter contention for all the Marines. And the impetus for more than one dubious chemistry experiment. When the two corporals running a complex still out of the motor pool had been very publically arrested and then never heard from again on week two, that had (briefly) slowed. Bass had been surprisingly uninvolved in that kind of activity, apparently undisturbed by enforced sobriety. Miles had been rather astonished that Bass hadn't bothered to circumvent the alcohol rationing, one way or another. Miles wondered if maybe Bass had been anticipating the need to bug out and saved those favors to call in when they needed access to the armory and other equipment stores

Miles realized Bass was right and helped him pick them up off the floor. “Can’t trade him if you use ‘em all yourself,” he said.

“That an offer, marine?” Bass said. Miles had no idea what to say to this sudden flirtation after weeks of tacit agreement to avoid the subject, so he just kept his silence as they organized their packs. He had a feeling that they’d be so reliant on one another for everything else as they made their way halfway across the country that they probably shouldn’t try for anything else. He wondered how long he’d be able to keep that pledge to himself.

As they struck out, they started talking. Eight weeks of argument and discussion on base hadn’t really been very productive; they’d had no idea what it was like outside the confines of the installation, the higher-ups weren’t talking, and rumors were rampant and so outlandish as to be massively unhelpful. Once they were on the ground, they could see what was happening for themselves.

“I don’t get it,” Miles said as they passed yet more burning, deserted wreckage. “Why are thousands of Marines twiddling their thumbs at Parris Island while the country burns?”

Bass snickered. “Twiddling their thumbs,” he repeated snidely. “Yeah, that’s what those guys are up to.”

“You know what I mean,” Miles snapped impatiently.

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Bass said. “You could always….” Bass broke off.

“What?” Miles said, stopping short, wondering if Bass had seen trouble.

Bass stopped as well, glanced over at Miles. “Well, I was going to say you could shoot me,” he said carefully. “But with you these days, I get the feeling that could be interpreted a lot more literally than I intended.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Miles said and started walking again. “Seriously, somebody should be doing something.” He didn’t mention Ben, Rachel, Charlie or Danny. He figured they were smart enough to get out of Chicago; he just hoped they’d been able to do so with a minimum of difficulty. He was oddly afraid to say anything aloud; superstition had been plaguing him ever since they’d returned to the Dark Ages.

“Why weren’t we deployed? Why no word from the government?” Miles asked instead.

“I don’t know,” said Bass, frustrated. “Look, since you talked me into this, we’re both AWOL. We’d better hope the government doesn’t get its shit together.”

“Even if it did, I doubt we’ll be a priority for them.”

“Self-protection is their priority,” Bass agreed. “Classic CYA will go into effect as soon as things normalize.”

This time it was Miles who stopped. “Bass, things are not going to normalize! Jesus. There’s an entire base full of Marines eating MREs and playing poker by the light of glow sticks. Does that seem normal to you?” Miles indicated a mass of abandoned cars, mostly late model SUVs, in an upscale strip mall parking lot to their left. The Sporting Authority was completely empty of goods, as was the Yankee Candle boutique next to it. No one had even bothered to break the windows on David's Bridal or Brookstone.

“Shit, Bass, I don’t think anyone’s even trying to _stabilize _the situation.” Miles and Bass looked at each other, both their faces reflecting both physical and emotional exhaustion.__

__“I get it, Miles” Bass said quietly, with the uncharacteristic sensitivity he’d been showing for weeks now . “But if we’re going to get through this, we just need to keep our heads down and find your family. Okay? Once we do that, we can worry about the lack of rebuilding effort going on, right?”_ _

__Miles sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll find my family, then figure out what to do next.” Bass nodded, but with resignation rather than triumph. Miles reached out to put his hand on Bass’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, knowing Bass would hear everything he wasn’t saying._ _

__“Anytime, asshole,” Bass said affectionately, and they started walking again._ _

__Three days later, they found the dead couple, then Jeremy. That was the end of the beginning for Miles and the rebuilding effort, and the beginning of the end for Miles and Bass. They both recognized the first state of events, but it was a long time before they realized the latter, especially since it was just a few days before Miles broke his pledge to himself, with Bass’s help, while Jeremy was on watch. The physical reconnection was shattering, after months of being tense about everything: the world, his family, every goddamned sound on the road. In the moment, it was easily mistaken , by both of them, for a more profound feeling, maybe even something like love, but it would be months before Miles or Bass would realize the error._ _


End file.
